


Filthy Undertakings

by MrSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Comedy, F/M, I Don't Even Know, It's really not meant to be taken seriously, M/M, Mpreg, Ridiculous, really awkward sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel is pregnant. Now he's working at the Undertaker's strip club to pay the bills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Grell flipped over her time card and punched in her hours. 6:59pm on the dot. If it had taken her a minute longer to finish that cigarette outside, she would be late. 

“Five minutes early is on time, Sutcliff.” William’s voice reprimanded her from nearby. “You are late.” 

Grell pouted, pursing her lips and slipping off her coat. She was already grabbing her long brown hair, whipping it up into a ponytail and wrapping it around her head; turning to walk out of the break room and head for the nearest spot with a mirror. 

“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, Will!” she pulled a crumpled up wig cap from her jean pocket, slipping it over her hair and tucking loose strands into the sides. “The boss doesn’t care. Why should you?” 

Will was not the boss, but he was her boss. He was the assistant manager. On his own he would be pretty severe and boring. But the owner of Filthy Undertakings Gentleman’s Club didn’t believe in people like Will. 

A man who would, left to his own devices, walk around in a crisp black suit was forced to wear gold lamé. At least while he was on the clock. The boss got a real laugh out of it. 

Grell lifted her candy apple red wig off its stand and leaned over, slipping it on so that it fit snugly around the wig cap. Once everything was in place she straightened up, flipping the wig back, and started arranging all of the layers and bangs just so. She was already in full makeup. The lighting here wasn’t worth shit and she was not going to take chances with her eyeliner. 

Honestly. A proper cat’s eye could make the difference in paying rent and donating extra blood that month. 

Will tapped his watch irately. “I’m going to dock five minutes from your paycheck.” 

“Oh Will!” she crushed a fist against her chest, feigning doubling over in mental anguish. “Don’t do it!” 

He clenched his jaw. 

“An entire sixty cents!” 

A vein popped up in his temple, pounding so hard it looked like it could blow any second. 

“I’m a hard working woman! I deserve every penny!” she turned to him, reaching out as if to grab his arm. “Is there anything I can do to convince you not to treat me so harshly…?” 

William took several steps back, nearly falling over a vanity. Grell giggled and tossed her hair, smirking. 

“Oh Will,” she said. “Every day it becomes more obvious how you can barely resist me.” 

“Watch it, Sutcliff.” He growled. “This type of workplace behavior is greatly inappropriate.” 

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to her vanity and reaching out for a wide-toothed comb. 

“This is going to be put on your evaluation at the end of the week.” He said, straightening himself back up. 

“Don’t you threaten me, honey.” She waved her comb at him. “I bring in the real cash. You know it, the boss knows it. I am irreplaceable.”

“You confuse invaluable with novelty.” His expression never changed, she hated that about him. “And novelty only goes so far.” 

The music outside was changing, and the alarm bells around the stage were going off. It was her signal to get her ass out there. Grell sat down on the floor and started tugging on her heels, looking up at Will and sneering. 

“Well you let me know,” she said, “when some other novel bitch comes in here to try and take my stage.”

 

\--------  
Ciel fidgeted in the chair. It wasn’t very comfortable. The leather seat was sunken in to the point where shifting his weight would bump his ass against the wooden frame. The back was too far away and curved to provide proper support, so he ended up sitting on the front edge. It put him way too close to the desk in front of him – he could almost touch knees with the man who was interviewing him. 

He watched as his limited ‘resume’ kept getting turned over. Back, to front. Front, to back. 

He was starting to get annoyed. He highly doubted it was even being read at this point. 

“You are a little young.” Bright green eyes, like a cat’s, flicked a glance his way. Ciel fought to keep his posture relaxed. He hated cats. His boyfriend loved them. 

Ex boyfriend. He kept forgetting. Sebastian had dumped him only hours ago. 

“I’m eighteen.” Ciel said. He was lying through his teeth, but his I.D. said he was eighteen. That was the one thing he had ever gotten out of Sebastian – a fake ID that could slide through most scanners. 

“Hmm.” The man at the desk tapped his fingertips together. Obviously, he wasn’t buying it. “Well, your resume is a bit limited. You’ve never held a job before?” 

“I’ve never needed to. But you know. Hard times.” Ciel said. 

The man nodded sympathetically. “Hard times.” He flipped the resume over again. “And no references.” 

“I put down one.” Ciel said. “At the bottom.” 

“Claude Faustus.” The man snickered. “I know of him.” 

Oh, perfect. Ciel maintained his best poker face. 

“Quite the scoundrel, is he not? Quite the…heartbreaker.” The man granted Ciel a wide grin. “You scratched out your first reference.”

“That’s because it was a mistake.” Sebastian would have been an even worse source than Claude. 

“You know.” The man across the desk gave him a long look, and an even wider grin. His teeth were unnaturally white. “Strippers don’t exactly need…a resume.” 

Ciel blushed furiously. “Are you going to consider me for the job?” he tried not to sound too pissed off. “Or am I to take my business…elsewhere?” 

Was that how these things went? Is that what you were supposed to say? He didn’t know. He was sixteen and had never been employed in his life. 

The man across the desk outright cackled, throwing himself forward over the desk, pressing his hands against the papers. Startled, Ciel slipped back into his seat, eyes wide. By the time he recovered, the man was calming down, running the back of his hand over his face as if wiping away tears. 

“I think we could give you a trial run. Tonight we’re expecting a big crowd. It is one of Grell’s working nights. They always show up for her.” He placed his fingertips together again. “They don’t really bring out cash for boys, unless we can dress them up a it, make them a little more – interesting. Have you ever worn a dress?” 

“Of course not!” Ciel flashed back almost immediately. 

The man snickered. “Then I suggest you get used to it.” He said. “Very quickly.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ciel stared at the outfit they had given him. It had so many pieces, he wasn’t sure which to put on first. 

_“Most girls buy their own clothes.” The assistant manager looked him up and down with thinly concealed contempt. “But since you came ill-prepared for the job, these will do for your first appearance.”_

He had dumped a handful of pink satin and sheer white lace into Ciel’s lap and then walked away, leaving Ciel to wonder how in the world he was expected to tuck his parts into something that rode so far up his ass it was a wonder he didn’t cough it up the other end. 

He considered getting help, but that would require wandering around and actually asking someone for assistance. And that would also result in many more people than was absolutely necessary being a witness to his humiliation. Ciel quickly shed his clothing, determined to figure it out on his own. He lifted up the first item, a tiny thong that looked like there should be more of it somewhere, because there was no way that some string with a single triangle of fabric counted as a garment. 

He muttered. Ciel stepped into the thong, pulling it up over his hips. He had to reach down the front and adjust his package. He was small enough that it was a near perfect fit. The fabric held it a little too snugly for comfort, but he supposed that was a good thing. It would keep ‘accidents’ from happening on stage. 

Ciel lifted up the next item. It was a bra that matched the thong. He didn’t know why they were making him wear a bra when he didn’t have enough flesh on his chest to fill out an A cup. Ciel sighed and slipped it on, pulling the elastic band around and trying to fasten it in the back. 

It wasn’t happening. Ciel furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth in frustration, twisting his fingers to try and get the hooks to catch. Nothing worked out. Exasperation, he released his hold and huffed, sitting down on a chair and leaning forward, his arms resting against the vanity. 

The summary of his life was thus: he needed a bullet to just end it already. 

Ciel felt fingers brush against his spine. Someone tugged on the bra band and clasped it for him in one quick motion. Ciel jumped and shot a fierce glare over his shoulder. The person behind him laughed. 

“You looked like you were struggling.” The man said. He was short. Maybe 5’6”. His hair was blond, dyed partially black underneath. He winked at Ciel from behind dark-framed glass and tapped the large headphones hanging around his neck. “I’m on my bathroom break. Got to get back out there – Grell hates it when her music is late.” 

“Wait!” Ciel’s face flushed. “Can you – help me with the rest of this? I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m supposed to be out there soon.” 

“Sure! My name is Ronald, by the way. I’m usually up for any excuse to procrastinate.” Ronald turned to what remained. “I don’t know anything about makeup, though.” 

Ciel hesitated. “I don’t think I need makeup…” 

“Don’t let Grell hear you say that. Here, you can put on a dress, can’t you?” he handed Ciel a slinky black number. “Slide that over your head, this side is the front. I’ll see what I can do about this wig.” 

Ciel slipped on the dress obediently, tugging it down his small frame and adjusting it so that the straps – and it was mostly straps – all seemed to lay where they were supposed to. “Who is this Grell person?” 

“My girlfriend,” Ronald said cheerfully, as if he usually jumped on any excuse to share that information. “And she’s a class act, let me tell you. No one tops her around here…” 

Ciel coughed. “Not even you?” 

Ronald jostled Ciel with his elbow. “Hey! Don’t be a dick.” He slipped the wig onto Ciel’s head. It was ink black and straighter than a metal sheet. It was long enough that it almost hit the back of Ciel’s knees. Ronald whipped out some safety pins and a headband, improvising like hell as he managed to pull the cheap wig back into a semi-decent ponytail.

“Done! You look hot.” Ronald stepped back, admiring his work. 

Ciel was giving his reflection and his makeup box equally horrified looks. 

“I don’t know what to do next.” He said. “This was a bad idea.” 

“Well you’ve got about ten minutes, so think fast!” Ronald lifted his hand in a wave. “See you out on the stage!” he smacked Ciel’s ass playfully and left the room, laughing. 

Ciel decided he didn’t like that one very much, either. He grabbed the makeup box, yanking it open and quickly scanning the inside. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. None of this shit came with instructions. Eyeliner and mascara were familiar territory. Lipstick was self-explanatory. Blush seemed a little advanced, but he could give it a shot. The rest was going to go ignored. 

It only took him five minutes to apply. He felt like it should have taken longer. 

The last thing he did was pull on a pair of heels. They were a half size too big and impossibly tall. He had to grab hold of his chair and use it to pull himself up to his feet. He wobbled, his knees trembling as he started to make his way towards the exit. He wondered if it would be acceptable to drag the chair with him. 

Just in case. 

He made it to the main front room without dying. Walking through the doors meant he was immediately assaulted by color and sound. The main room was dark – the lights embedded in the ceilings were on their dimmest setting. Everything else was flashing pink and blue – it was like having a seizure, only there was now sweet embrace of death waiting at the end. Just more lights. And very loud music. 

Ronald was seated in the DJ’s booth. He wore a lot of black, but it was off-set by his glowing blue headphones and his matching electric blue puffer vest. Ciel crept up to the booth – wobbling like a baby faun taking its first steps. Ronald grinned at him and waved. Ciel winced, his head already pounding from the loud music, and waved back. 

Once he was stationary again, Ciel glanced at the stage where all the action was happening. The woman on the stage was peeling off her clothes to Natalie Kills’ song Problem. Ciel watched, mesmerized as she popped the clasp on her bra (it opened from the front, an addition which he found to be smart). The bra slipped down her shoulders, revealing pale pink nipples and perky, pale breasts. The woman flipped her long red hair, grinning, and started working her fingers down the band of her panties. Ciel could have sworn he saw the very tip of man’s cock peer over the lace before it vanished again, and the stripper strutted off the stage as her song ended. 

“Was that…” he was so confused, and his ears were ringing from the sudden quiet as the songs transitioned. 

“Yep! Grell, the almighty and beautiful. Also, it’s your turn. Get on up there! And break a leg! But not literally. You look like you might.” Ronald grimaced a bit and leaned over. 

Ciel was not feeling encouraged at all. He could hear his name being announced over the speakers and his stomach started turning in knots. He had never experienced stage fright before – but then again, he had never gone up in front of a couple dozen drunk men and tried to strip before.

He found the steps leading up to the stage – his foot landing awkwardly on the black top. He took a deep breath and started walking down the length – hoping the power music would kick in and maybe add some confidence to his stride. 

The first bars of his song started playing. It was something he recognized, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. 

_‘She works hard for the money!’_

Ciel stopped in the middle of the stage and looked up, glaring. 

“Really!” 

_‘So hard for it, honey!’_

Ronald was mouthing the lyrics in his booth and grinning from ear to ear. Ciel was going to throttle him. 

_‘She works hard for the money!  
So you better treat her right!’_

Ciel took a deep breath. The end of the stage was round and had a thick, gleaming pole in the middle. He wasn’t about to touch that. It would only end in disaster. Ciel looked into the red faces of every man surrounding the stage, leering up at him expectantly. He could only hope that they were all so drunk that no matter what he did, they wouldn’t care about how ridiculous it looked so long as they got to see some ass. 

Ciel started working his dress up his thighs, feeling awkward as hell. 

_‘She works hard for the money!’_

There were some catcalls as he started to pull his dress up over his head. Ciel quickly realized that was a mistake. He already felt like his wig was beginning to slip. Ciel switched tactics – starting to shimmy his dress down his shoulders. The stretchy fabric accommodated this change in direction –thankfully. He stepped out of the dress, attempting to kick it behind him. 

His heel snagged on the cloth, and he stumbled forward – nearly falling off the stage. Catcalls turned to snickers. Ciel’s face flushed bright red with embarrassment. 

Ciel swallowed hard. The stage lights were hot – but his skin still felt clammy reduced to nothing but the bra and panties. He had probably taken all of thirty seconds to undress, even with the stumble, and he still had four minutes of song left. 

In other words, he needed to add something to his routine, or this would be over too quickly and he would be standing awkwardly in the middle of the stage, naked and having to endure the voice of Donna Summer. 

He was out of options. Ciel grabbed onto the pole, his own palm slick enough with sweat that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to grip it properly. Ciel popped his ass out awkwardly and swung around the base of the pole in the simplest, most childish way possible. He couldn’t even look at the crowd anymore. He just kept staring into the stage lights. If he was lucky, he would go blind. 

He spun around the pole a few more times before he started getting dizzy. Ciel leaned against it, kicking off his heels, flinging them into the crowd. He saw at least two different men duck for cover, nearly avoiding getting beamed in the head. Ciel started to work his bra straps down his shoulders, but then remembered he couldn’t unclasp it on his own. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_‘Ok,’_ he thought. _‘No big deal. I’m just going to lift it off.’_ Ciel grabbed the molded cups and started tugging on them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ronald shoot him an incredulous look. Ciel managed and uneasy smile, and slipped the bra up his arms. 

It came off without a problem. Triumphant, Ciel whipped it around his head and tossed it into the crowd, feeling a bit cheeky with his first success. The lights were so bright that all he could see were a few men sliding over in their seats, parting for the flying article of clothing, and then there was a pause. 

The music was still going. Aside from that, it was unsettlingly quiet. 

Then there was laughter. Ciel’s eyes fell to the crowd, and adjusted just enough that he could see beyond the table. 

“Annnd let us not forget the first rule of stripping, fine gentlemen – always make sure your hair is properly anchored!” Ronald said over the speakers. Ciel’s heart dropped down into his stomach. He was definitely going to throw up. 

_‘Not on stage, not on stage…’_ he turned around and started running for the back, almost slipping on the damn dress again. 

“Someone has had a rough first night!” Ronald was saying, although Ciel could barely hear him through the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears. “Don’t worry, doll, it gets better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's just getting worse, honestly. 
> 
> I don't know where Ciel's borderline nihilistic thoughts come from.


	3. Chapter 3

On the other side of town, the _Victorian Rose_ was closing up for the night. 

Sebastian flicked off all of the main lights, glancing around the room to see if anything had been left out of place. Of course, nothing had. It was immaculate as always. Sebastian was known for his excellent customer service, honoring his business hours to the second. He never closed before 10pm. Of course, he never stayed any later than 10pm, either. He was pristine, meticulous – some would say preternatural. All of his health ratings were perfect. And his unique blends were lauded by suburban mothers everywhere. 

Bare knuckles rapped against one of his windows. Sebastian flickered his red eyes in the direction, already walking over, the half-inch heels of his sleek black shoes clicking against the hard wooden floor. The harsh glow of neon red and blue lights hit his face as he looked down, and then switched off the ‘open’ sign. 

The boy outside pouted and smacked the glass harder. His small hands smeared fingerprints all over the glass. Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched. 

Sebastian sighed and walked over to the tea shop’s doors, unlocking them and pulling them open. The boy skipped in, short black hair tousled by the wind. He adjusted his large, white glasses and then hopped up onto a table, making it rock a little with his weight. He blew into his hands and looked up at Sebastian, his grin spreading from ear to ear. 

"Thanks!” the boy said. “It’s cold out there.” 

"It is." Sebastian went over to the counter where he had previously been standing and picked up his coat. “Did you follow Ciel?” 

“Yes sir!” the boy picked up the camera hanging around his neck, holding it aloft. “I took pictures! Do you want them?” 

Sebastian held out a hand. “No.” 

The boy lowered his camera, looking mildly disappointed. “Oh, well. He ended up at _Filthy Undertakings_ , I don’t know if you know what kind of place that is…” 

“An establishment of some…repute.” Sebastian slipped on his gloves. 

“…Sure! Anyway, it’s a strip club. Or you know – ‘gentlemen’s club’, but not very many ‘gentlemen’ go in. I think I actually saw my plumber go in. With some friends. I never knew he had friends.” 

Sebastian was getting irritated with the child. He glanced out the window, looking at the small Starbucks across the street. 

It was open until eleven. He had no issue with forwarding his after-hours customers in that direction. After all, it only took one mouthful of milk flavored ice to make them start grabbing their nightly coffees or teas an hour earlier than usual. 

“So Ciel,” Sebastian said slowly, processing. “Is at a strip club?” 

“Mhhmmm. He works there now and – well mind you I didn’t get _in_ …but I got pretty close to their main entrance and from what I could hear – things didn’t go so hot. Not so sure how long he’s going to stick with that job…or how long the job is going to stick with _him_. You know what I mean?” the boy lifted his camera again. “Are you sure you don’t want to see the pictures?” 

Sebastian batted at the air with his hand. “What do I owe you?” 

“Same as last time.” The boy said, eyes sparkling behind large frames. “But you could sweeten the deal a little bit, you know. Sugar me up and I can tell you a bit more.” 

Sebastian glanced at the kid again. He disappeared in the back without another word, and the boy didn’t move from his spot sitting on the table. He waited, crossing his ankles and swinging his legs – humming as he fussed with the buttons on his camera. 

Not five minutes later, Sebastian came back. He carried with him a half-empty quart of homemade gelato – one of his specialties – and a large spoon. 

He handed the carton to the boy, who snatched it up eagerly, digging his spoon right into the pistachio gelato with glee. 

“My favorite!” he squeaked.

“What further information do you think you have for me…?” Sebastian left the question hanging in the air, leaving space for the boy to insert his name.

“Sascha.” The boy pouted. “I can’t believe you forgot.” 

“I will remember next time.” Sebastian glanced out the front windows again. He could see the Starbucks manager moving around inside of the building, cleaning things up with nearly the same uncanny precision Sebastian himself employed. 

Sebastian’s lip curled. There was no one he hated more than Claude Faustus. _No one._ The man did not have an original bone in his body. He didn’t even have enough creativity to open up his _own_ coffee shop – he had to hijack another franchise. 

Sebastian turned back to Sascha, who had nearly polished off the carton. 

“Claude has another boy toy.” Sascha said. “He’s seeing this one on the down-low. I’m pretty sure they’ve been going out for months, but that’s only because Claude was pretty sure that being open about it would ruin his chances to bang Ciel.” 

Sebastian was paying attention, now. “Do you have a name?” he asked.

Sascha shook his head. “Working on that. I’ve seen them only once or twice – but I have _pictures_ , you know, and the kid is kind of cute. Not like, Ciel cute – but like, ok. Put Ciel in a blonde wig, and then subtract ten attractive points. And you get this kid.” 

A smirked touched the corners of Sebastian’s lips. “Ciel is a prize.” He said. 

“That you dumped, rumor has it…” Sascha began.

Sebastian sighed. “Yes, it was necessary. Ciel has to think about his actions. Once he has been left to stew in them for a day or two, he may come back. Which he inevitably will. In the meantime…” too many conflicting emotions were beginning to surface. Sebastian swallowed them and picked up the carton and the spoon – disposing of the first and depositing the latter into the industrial sized dishwasher. “Find out more information about Claude’s boy. As much as you can. There will be more gelato in it for you.” 

"And a scone?" Sascha prodded with a big grin. "I do love them – and you _know_ I’m worth it.”

Sebastian’s expression was stone once more. “Of course.” 

 

***  
Ciel was just glad to be back in normal clothes. 

He slumped over one of the vanities, his arms resting on top of a pile of satiny lingerie that smelled like too many different kinds of perfume. He didn’t even know who it all belonged to – he had just crashed onto the first thing he saw so he could bury his face. 

Talk about absolutely humiliating. And this was only his first night. 

Ciel felt sick on his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything yet today and it was starting to catch up with him. His doctor told him that he _needed_ to eat – but between spending all morning with his head inside of a toilet and then arguing with Sebastian that afternoon – he just hadn’t felt like it. 

"Oh, dear. Well, we are not all born performers.” 

Ciel looked up, startled at first – then mostly annoyed. He glared at the redhead towering above him in her heels, looking down at him through red-framed glasses. 

Ciel sneered. "I suppose that makes two of us, huh?" 

Grell’s self-satisfied smirk vanished as soon as it appeared. “And what are you implying, exactly? You’re a cheeky little bastard, aren’t you? You think you can strut in here and vomit up your dignity all over _my…!”_

“Sutcliff.” A cold voice clipped off the end of her sentence. “That is quite enough.” 

Grell choked on the rest of her rant, swallowing it like a bitter pill. She was seething, almost shaking in her lipstick red heels. 

"Oh, Will!" she let out an exasperated sigh. “Will, you never let me have _any_ fun!” 

Ciel looked the newcomer up and down. It was the assistant manager, the one who had sort of thrown clothes at him and walked away. Seeing him a second time, Ciel realized he couldn’t be too angry with the guy. He was, after all, clearly uncomfortable in gold lamé. 

He looked a little bit like an extra from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Or an Elvis impersonator. 

"You are on again in fifteen minutes.” William said, giving her a cutting glare. “I suggest you change. You.” He swiveled his piercing green eyes until they fell on Ciel, sending a shiver up the boy’s spine. “The boss wishes to see you, to discuss your first performance.” 

Ciel’s stomach gurgled and flopped. He moaned, trying to cover up the sound. He slid his hands over his sides to rest on top of his belly, rubbing it pitifully. 

“I don’t think I can.” He said under his breath. 

“Your pardon?” Will demanded, adjusting his glasses. Ciel ground his teeth. 

“I said,” he snapped, “I don’t think I can!”

“Stand up.” William said, not about to take any excuses. “You walk to his office, or you walk out of here with no job.” 

Ciel thought briefly that if he clenched his jaw anymore he was going to break off all his teeth. He took a deep breath and started to stand, a sharp pain stabbing him in the side. Ciel moaned and moved to sit back down, but the world was tilting. Grey spots appeared on his vision, darkness closing in from the corners of his eyes as his hand banged awkwardly against the vanity, glancing off the edge. 

Ciel’s eyes rolled up to face the back of his head and he collapsed, his head narrowly avoiding meeting the same fate as his hand. Before he could hit the floor, Will reached out and caught him. The boy weighed almost nothing. 

Will gave Ciel a long, firm look. As if Ciel was even awake to see. 

“This,” the assistant manager said, setting Ciel down gently against the floor. “Is hardly professional.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is almost no sport in picking on Claude, it's so easy. 
> 
> So much awkwardness yet to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward, AWKWARD sex is about to happen. 
> 
> So if you don't want to read about Ciel getting laid (or if you just don't like Claude) then skip this chapter.

The world was a little bit brighter when Ciel woke up. He was staring straight into yellow light above his head. 

He groaned, dragging his arm up in order to throw it over his eyes.

“Ciel?” 

The voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a subway tunnel. A man’s head appeared, hovering over his face, blocking out the light.

Hands slid underneath him, bracing against his back. 

“Sebastian?” Ciel asked, his throat dry and hoarse. The world was returning to focus, and he saw the man shake his head before reaching up to adjust thin-rimmed glasses. 

Oh. It was just Claude. 

“I got a call,” Claude said. Ciel’s head was clearing up by the minute. “They said you had fainted.” 

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” Ciel tried to sit up. Claude helped him do so, and someone else pressed a glass of water to his lips. Ciel accepted it, taking three large gulps before handing it back and nodding. 

“Sorry,” Ciel said, wiping his red mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re my emergency contact.” 

Claude couldn’t help but smile. “And not Sebastian?” he asked. 

Ciel shrugged. “He was. I had to scratch him out because he broke up with me this afternoon.” He glanced around, noting how nice it was that no one had bothered to move him off the floor. “How long was I out?” 

“Well, we were able to revive you for a minute.” Ronald’s voice spoke up at last. “But you conked right back out. Will just said to leave you be and tossed me your emergency information.” 

“I fainted…couldn’t stay awake…and you didn’t call an ambulance?” Ciel’s eyes narrowed. Ronald just shrugged. 

“Come on,” Claude said, already moving to help Ciel stand. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

Ciel nodded, allowing the older man to help him up. He stood on his feet, teetering for a moment or two. He looked around – only Ronald and Claude were there. Everyone else must have run off. The show had to go on, he supposed. 

What a bunch of dicks. 

“I’ll call you in the morning,” Ronald said. “I’ll let you know what Will puts you down on the schedule for.” 

Ciel rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said, holding on to Claude’s arm as they took the back entrance out of the club. 

Claude hit a button on his keychain fob. The doors to his silver Prius unlocked and he opened up the passenger door, helping Ciel get in. 

Ciel slid into the fabric seat, kicking aside McDonald’s bags and miscellaneous paper cups as he did so. He grabbed the seat belt and pulled it down, suddenly unable to focus on anything save the fact that the cupholders were dirty – half-filled with cigarette ash and various odd coins. 

Claude got into the driver’s seat and adjusted all of his mirrors. Ciel was trying not to stare at the radio and its mysterious lack of knobs. 

“It’s an old car,” Claude said apologetically as they started to pull out of the parking lot. 

“Yeah.” Ciel agreed. “I get that.” He was far too uncomfortable to lean back in his seat. His theory was that if he kept staring straight ahead, he could pretend to be very interested in the speed limit signs. 

“So,” Claude said, making attempts to be conversational. “You and Sebastian…?” 

“Yeah.” Ciel rested a hand on his stomach self-consciously. “He found out.” 

“So you told him.” Claude concluded.

“Well,” Ciel said dryly. “I was throwing up for the third day in a row. He made me take a pregnancy test. Then there we were… and since he and I have never had sex, he knew in under three seconds that the baby wasn’t his. You have to give him some credit there. He’s not a complete imbecile.” 

“How angry was he?” Claude asked. 

Ciel shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s impossible to read, you know that. I know that _I_ was pretty pissed. He told me to get out. I told him I hoped that he died alone with a hundred cats.” 

Claude laughed. “What did he say to that?” 

“’So do I’.” Ciel sighed and reached up, scratching his arm. “I don’t think he knows it’s yours, though.” 

Claude let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He glanced at Ciel, his smile dazzling in the passing street lights. 

“You can stay with me.” He said. “For as long as you like.” 

“Thanks,” Ciel said. “I appreciate it.” 

“Seriously. As long as you like. Hell, you could stay forever. And I wouldn’t care.” Claude reached over and squeezed Ciel’s knee. “I’m going to take care of you. You can call that strip club in the morning and let them know that you won’t be working there.” 

“I don’t think so.” Ciel snipped. “I like working there. And I don’t feel like being entirely dependent on your income. I have standards and, if you’re going to keep me _and_ a baby, I expect them to be exceeded.” 

Claude’s heart was pounding. He gripped the steering wheel eagerly. 

“Of course.” He said. “I would never think to force you to lower your standards of living for me.” 

He reached up, hitting the garage door opener that was clipped to the sun visor above his head. The door to his garage opened as he pulled into the driveway and he slid right in, his Prius not even taking up a respectable amount of space. 

It was a three bedroom, one story house. He had bought it from his parents, a deal which he had referred to as ‘pretty baller’ even though Ciel had not used the word ‘baller’ since middle school. And he was pretty sure this man was close to 24. 

“So,” Ciel said. “Do I get the couch?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claude started to get out of the car. “You get my bed.” 

“Do I get you in it?” Ciel smirked. He stepped out as well, mostly recovered from his earlier incident. 

“Any time you wish.” Claude said. “All you have to do is say the word.” 

Ciel walked over to him, moving slowly, carefully. He stopped in front of Claude and grabbed him by the lapels of his stylish black jacket, dragging him down an inch or two so that Ciel could push himself up on his toes and steal a kiss. 

“Now.” Ciel commanded, whispering against Claude’s mouth. 

Claude was already taking his jacket off. He turned and hurriedly fished out his keys, jamming them into the appropriate lock and opening up the door that led to his kitchen. He turned and tried to steal another kiss, an effort which was rewarded by a chaste brush of lips from Ciel. 

Claude stripped off his shirt as well, following Ciel into the master bedroom. The bed was messy – he hadn’t really been expecting company. Ciel didn’t seem to care. He jumped onto the bed, kicking aside the dirty clothes and pile of blankets that had somehow accumulated over the past few days. He grabbed the band of his jeans, pushing them down his skinny hips and kicking them off his spindly legs. 

Claude grabbed Ciel by the shoulders, dragging him forward for a kiss. Ciel moaned, reaching down to rub Claude’s erection through his pants. 

“Tell me you love me.” Ciel said, panting. 

“I love you,” Claude pushed down his pants and underwear both in one sweep. 

Ciel had seen a lot of dicks on the internet before. He had been a virgin before he and Claude had sex for the first time, but he wanted to know what to expect at the same time. And somehow, Ciel thought he remembered Claude’s cock being bigger. 

But no, it wasn’t. And if he thought more on it, he could recall a discussion they had right before the event where Claude had been doing his damndest to explain that “five inches was the national average”. 

Ciel tried not to stare, but if this was a full five inches – he and Claude were using two very different systems of measurement. 

Claude was already crawling on top of Ciel, sliding his hand up the boy’s leg to try and rest it against his shoulder. Ciel’s legs weren’t quite long enough for that trick, plus Claude had only grabbed one. Ciel’s other leg dangled, half-raised and useless, his toes pressed against the older man’s chest. 

“Condoms?” Ciel asked, looking up. Claude shook his head. 

“Remember?” he prompted. “Last time?” 

Oh. Last time it had slipped off. That was how Ciel managed to get pregnant from his first time. 

“Right,” Ciel said. 

“Besides,” Claude tried to bring up the boy’s other leg. “We don’t have to worry about that for a few months, now.” 

Ciel winced. “Right.” He said again. Claude reached over Ciel’s head and grabbed a half-empty tube of lube that had been hiding underneath a pillow. Claude squirted some onto his fingers and started rubbing them between Ciel’s ass cheeks. The lube was cold and unpleasant, making Ciel’s own cock retreat rather than harden. 

Claude did not seem to notice Ciel’s dwindling enthusiasm as he spread Ciel’s ass cheeks apart and set the head of his cock between them. He looked at Ciel and smiled. Ciel lay there, arms spread like a mock Christ figure, completely limp. He didn’t really know what to do. This was only his second time, and Claude did not seem to believe in foreplay. Or guidance. 

Not that Ciel wanted written instructions on how to properly copulate. But some direction would have been nice. 

Claude kissed him again. His kisses were impassioned and messy. He dragged his lips over Ciel’s mouth, his tongue snaking out over the boy’s full cheek. Ciel tried not to visibly cringe. He turned his head, trying to encourage Claude to kiss his neck instead. Claude planted one half-hearted kiss on Ciel’s throat and then poked him with the head of his cock again before slipping inside. 

Ciel yelped and closed his eyes tight, his hands flying up to grab hold of Claude’s shoulders. His face turned red and he tried to take a deep breath as Claude continued to slide in and out, never really stopping to let his partner adjust. 

For a few seconds, he thanked his lucky stars that Claude wasn’t any bigger. 

Claude continued to thrust. Ciel ground his teeth, looking up at the roof as he waited for the change of pace. It was getting easier. He was started to feel more of the pressure of Claude’s hips against his. Ciel allowed a small moan to escape his lips, and he closed his eyes…

“Damn it.” Claude whispered. Ciel opened his eyes and looked up. Claude was rearing back a little, grabbing hold of the base of his cock and repositioning it. 

“I slipped out,” Claude said, sliding back inside even as he spoke. “Yeah. That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Ciel nodded, offering Claude an encouraging half-smile. It had become clear to him about thirty seconds into this encounter that he wouldn’t be getting off tonight. All he wanted now was for this to end.

So far, in his limited experience, sex was so much better in theory. 

Thankfully, it was over within another minute. Claude picked up speed, thrusting as hard as he could, his hips smacking into Ciel’s ass. It was starting to feel good, but that had less to do with his dick and more to do with the friction of his body grinding against Ciel’s. 

“Fuck,” Claude said under his breath. “I’m going to cum.” He grabbed hold of Ciel’s shoulders, pressing them down into the bed. “Where do you want me to cum?” 

“Wherever you want.” Ciel said, sounding a little deadpan even to himself. 

Claude closed his eyes, his face turning red as he came. His cum was bountiful but watery, and Ciel cringed at the feeling of being filled up with it. Claude pulled out and collapsed beside his partner, letting out a short laugh as he rubbed his face and slicked back strands of his thick black hair. 

“Wow,” he said. “Wow…that was just…amazing.” 

“Mhm,” Ciel wondered if it would be kosher to finish himself off, or if he should just wait until he was alone again. 

Claude was already starting to fall asleep. Ciel stayed in the very position he had been left in for a while, his hand between his legs – his fingers toying idly with his own semi-erect penis. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sebastian. He wondered what his ex-boyfriend was doing, all the way on the other side of town.


	5. Chapter 5

The shower was running when Ciel woke up. 

Sunlight was clawing its way through the split in Claude's threadbare black curtains, spitting out heated yellow beams in Ciel's direction and causing him to sweat. He threw off the dingy cover and sat up, almost regretting sitting up so quickly. His stomach flipped and he swallowed the bile that shot up his throat, closing his eyes as he tried not to throw up. He didn't know what time it was. All he knew was that his shift didn't start until 4, and that it couldn't be _that_ late if Claude was still home. 

Ciel started to move, his legs slipping over the side of the bed and dragging half the rumpled sheets with them. He pushed back a handful of his thick black hair and rubbed his tired blue eyes, grinding his palms into them and groaning. 

Ciel glanced around the room in a half-assed attempt to locate his clothes; thirty seconds all he needed before coming to the conclusion that they were lost to the Eldritch God that was Claude's dirty laundry pile. He groped around the bed covers, grabbing a corner and shaking them out until something came loose. It was a plain black t-shirt several sizes too big, but it was going to have to do. Ciel slipped it over his head. He didn't know why he was self-conscious about the idea of walking around Claude's apartment naked. It wasn't like he had anything to hide anymore. 

His feet his the floor and he kicked an old soda can out of the way when he finally got out of bed. Ciel started scratching his head again, rubbing his fingertips vigorously over his scalp as he walked into the hall and started making his way to the bathroom. There was steam seeping out from underneath the door sill, and Ciel reached out to touch the doorknob, twisting it a little bit to see if it was locked. 

It wasn't. Ciel grabbed hold of the knob and twisted it sharply. The wood was a little warped from the heat and didn't want to budge at first. Ciel had to throw his small shoulder against it before he finally felt the door give. 

He didn't bother to announce himself. Ciel stepped into the bathroom, his bare toes curling in disgust as they touched wet tile. He made a face and started making his way towards the toilet, already bunching up the t-shirt around his hips. 

"G'morning," Ciel said, doubting Claude could even hear him over the shower. 

The faucet squeaked. The water died down until it had shut off completely and Ciel let his eyes wander, the notion of catching his partner naked and drenched not entirely unappealing. 

The curtain slid back on its rod, metal rings screeching as the rod bowed, threatening to cave underneath the threatening force. A skinny blonde boy, no older than Ciel, was standing in the tub - water droplets slipping off the tip of his sharp nose as his face went from red to a peculiar shade of mottled purple. 

Ciel's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't move. He just stared the boy down, not fully comprehending the implications of his presence. 

"I'm sorry," the boy said, his ensuing grin entirely unfriendly and not even remotely remorseful. "Who are you?" 

"Ciel Phantomhive." Ciel dropped his t-shirt and reached out to flush the toilet, never once breaking eye contact. 

"Alois Trancy. Fabulous to meet you. If I may be so bold..." he stepped out of the tub, one white foot descending gracefully to hit the speckled shower mat. He wiggled his fingers, indicating the bathrobe hanging by Ciel's head.

Ciel glanced at it, then looked back at the boy dryly. Alois scowled. 

"Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?" All pretense was dropped. Alois reached out in front of Ciel and snatched up the robe, whipping it around his tiny shoulders. There was no belt, so Ciel didn't really see the point.

"I think I already answered that question."

"I mean what are you doing _here_ , in this apartment." Alois picked up a towel and started rubbing it back and forth over his fair hair. "Has Claude been cleaning out the gutters?" 

Ciel was too tired to take the bait. "I'm going to be late for work." 

"It's 7:30 in the morning. Aren't you a stripper?" 

Ciel paused, scrunching up his lips tightly. "Better a stripper than a slut." 

"I bet you're the ugliest one they have if they're giving you the daytime shift on a Wednesday." 

"I just want to be early. Make a good impression." Ciel snapped, turning to walk out of the bathroom. He was going to murder Claude. He didn't know who this little guttersnipe was but he was _not_ going to share a bed with a bimbo blonde. Nor was he going to share his man, for that matter. 

"Oh sure, you go on and do that honey." Alois sneered. "We'll see how long you can keep working a pole with swollen ankles." 

Jesus Christ, did _everyone_ know? 

"Is Claude still home?" Ciel asked, already headed for the bathroom door. Alois shrugged, his robe slipping down his shoulders. 

"If you want my advice-" 

"I don't." 

"-Get out now and stay out. Claude will lose interest in you. He has the attention span of a goldfish. Better to leave now before he can break your delicate little heart." 

Ciel shot him the most disgusted look but didn't bother to reply as he left, slamming the door behind him. 

 

)()()()( 

"That doesn't sound right." Ronald stuck his spoon in his mouth and started wrestling with the tab on the little plastic creamer. They had been stacked a mile high right next to the 'office' coffee pot. 

"I know a pregnant broad when I see one." Grell leaned against the counter, glancing disinterestedly at her nails. "Trust me, that boy is going to _burst_ in nine months or less." 

"Oh," Ronald furrowed his brow, his words slightly muffled as he finally claimed his victory, ripping back the foil and tipping the creamer over his styrofoam coffee cup. "He can't get fired over just that, can he?" 

"I don't think it even matters since he's not on the books to begin with...don't you usually take your coffee black?" 

Ronald stuck the spoon into the middle of the cup, stirring the contents until they changed from pitch black to nearly white. "I'm going for something different today. I want to see how the other half lives." 

Grell rolled her eyes and picked up her compact, popping it open and pulling it close to her face to examine her eyeliner. "Will took me off the schedule today for the first hour." 

"Ouch," Ronald said, sipping his coffee and making a face. "What did you do to piss him off?" 

"Existed?" Grell pouted her lips, snapping her compact shut. "I'm going to make a complaint. He's picking on me and he has no reason." 

"I wouldn't. You know what the boss is going to say." 

"Mmm. 'No one understands you, dear, you are far too fair a lady for this place'. And then he'll coo and pat me on the back and not change a damn thing." 

"Such is the nature of things." Ron sipped his coffee again, his face scrunching up even more as he set the cup down on the counter. 

Grell cocked a crimson eyebrow. "Too sweet?" 

"Yeah. It's actually really gross." 

"Stop drinking it, then." 

"I wanted to see if I liked it any better the second time..." 

The break room door slammed. Grell and Ronald both looked up as Ciel stomped in, digging his prim heels into the ground with each pound of his feet as he made his way across the room without saying a word to either of them. He grabbed a metal chair and pulled it out, collapsing into the depressed seat and dropping his head down into his arms; intent on giving up on life right there at the table. 

Ronald and Grell exchanged looks, neither wanting to tackle what was clearly an avalanche of emotion just waiting to be unleashed. 

Ronald's savior complex got the better of him. He stepped closer, holding out his coffee cup in front of him like some sort of peace offering. 

"Hey," he said. "Want to talk about it?" 

"Smooth, Ronald. Pregnant people can't drink caffeine." 

"Well I didn't know!" Ronald exclaimed defensively. 

Ciel lifted his head just enough to peer out through his dark fringe. He reached out and took the offered cup, setting it down on the table and dragging it closer to him until he could tip it just a slight and sip from the rim. He looked up at his coworker as he did so, sticking out a little pink tongue and lapping at the coffee like a kitten. 

"So, um," Ronald rubbed the back of his neck and cocked an uncertain grin. "Rough day?" 

"Rough doesn't cover it." Ciel exhaled sharply and dropped his head again. "I woke up today and there was a blonde in my shower." 

"And that's-bad?" Ronald squinted, treading carefully into the subject. 

"My boyfriend is a brunette." Ciel grumbled. 

"Oh." Ronald looked to Grell for help. The look she gave him made it very clear that he was on his own with this. 

"I guess he isn't _really_ my boyfriend." Ciel said. "It's not like we're official. He's just the guy who...I fucked right before my last boyfriend broke up with me." 

"Oh wow," Ronald said. "This all sounds very dramatic." 

"Not really." Ciel scoffed. 

"So is that why you're here at..." Ronald checked his cell phone. "...almost 9 in the morning? Your shift doesn't start until 4 or thereabouts." 

"I thought I'd just come in early. I had to get out of that apartment, Claude was already gone and..." Ciel groaned. "I'm so tired." 

"Well hey..." Ronald reached out, patting him on the shoulder. "You don't have to sleep in the break room. I'm sure if you asked the boss he could find something for you to stretch out on..." 

Grell choked down a laugh. 

"Thanks," Ciel said dryly. "I'm fine. I just need a few minutes. I'll move if it becomes a bother." 

"I mean, you're not bothering _me_." Ronald squeezed his shoulder. "You do what you need to do kid. I'll be out setting up the sound equipment if you need me. We don't actually open for another hour... but Grell will be around too." 

"Don't come to me unless you are dying." Grell said. "I'm not your mother." 

"Noted," Ciel muttered, already drifting off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

It was nearly midnight by the time Sebastian’s long, dark shadow darkened the doorway of _Filthy Undertakings_. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in a strip club, but he had not been expecting quite so many…lights. They were visible from the open door – a little glimpse inside showed him flashes of pink, red, and yellow that seemed to be beaming down on to the stage. It amazed him that even standing on the sidewalk he could feel the pulsing bass underneath his feet, even though he could not hear the music for all of the wolf-whistles and catcalling that were being thrown around inside. 

He loathed the idea of even stepping inside of this place and he fought to keep the visible disgust from creeping onto his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID, flashing it casually at the bouncer as he walked by. He looked around for Ciel, wondering if he would find the boy walking up down around the tables collecting tips from customers in his downtime; or if he would have to grab a seat by the stage and wait there until the next show. The girl who was up there now was some blonde-haired, blue-eyed thing that Sebastian didn’t care about. 

Ciel was nowhere yet to be found. Sebastian pressed his lips together and searched for a seat near the bar. He grabbed a recently abandoned stool and brought his arms up to rest on top of the counter, narrowly avoiding dragging his long-black sleeve through a shallow puddle of whiskey. 

The bartender, an attractive young man with brown hair and rimless glasses, noticed the mess and dragged a cloth over it to sop up the whiskey – since clearly Sebastian was sober enough to care. 

“What can I get for you?” he asked with a smile. His nametag said Alan. Sebastian looked up at him, resting one arm on the counter and leaning over a bit. 

“Bourbon Old-Fashioned.” He said. “Do you have a list of tonight’s performers?” 

Alan jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating a dry-erase board behind him that had a few names scribbled out in faint marker. “Those are the names. Is there anyone you’re waiting on?” 

Sebastian shrugged. Alan finished making the drink and then noncommittally slid it across the counter. Sebastian swept it up, bringing the drink to his lips and sipping delicately from the rim as he glanced over at the stage. 

The current act was finished. The blonde gathered up the rest of her tips, hoisting a fistful of cash into the air and waving at her adorably receptive crowd as she turned to walk off. Sebastian watched her go and noticed as a few men split away from the stage, staggering back towards the bar as their final stop before making their exit. 

“I want a Blow Job, Alan. Extra whipped cream.” Sebastian heard someone speak, the voice too close to him for comfort. 

“Don’t you think Ronald would have something to say about that?” Alan replied, setting a small shotglass on the table. 

“You make that joke every time.” Grell rolled her eyes and turned around to lean against the bar, her eyes landing immediately on Sebastian’s backside. “Well hello tall, dark, and handsome. Are you here to buy me a drink?” 

Sebastian looked over his shoulder, knowing he was going to regret acknowledging this woman’s presence. “I was actually about to move.” 

“Closer to the stage? Oh honey, the next act is a clown show. You don’t want to waste your money that way. Stick around for the one that follows, I’ll be on stage then.” She winked, her curling false eyelashes batting her high cheekbones. “I am _the best_ in the business. You will see my name everywhere if you come here often enough.” 

“What is the name of the next performer?” Sebastian asked, not taking the bait. Grell scowled and picked up her shot from the counter as soon as Alan set it down. 

She knocked it back within a second and set the empty glass back down, dragging a red tongue over her crimson lips to lick up the last of the whipped cream. 

“His stage name is Baby Cakes. Rather bland, if you ask me.” 

“I did not know that this was _that_ kind of strip club.” Sebastian said, sipping from his bourbon again. 

Grell gave him an odd look and shrugged, standing up straight and dragging her gloved fingers through her long crimson tresses. “Some men have diverse tastes. Filthy Undertakings caters to _all_ tastes.” She leaned in closer, her mouth hovering inches away from his ear. “I’d like to see what _you_ taste like.” 

Sebastian turned his head, shooting her the darkest glare he could manage. He was about to respond, but the music started up again – some candy pop tune that he had heard on the radio far too many times. 

The lights went down, and Ciel appeared – his lean body a dark silhouette against a royal purple curtain. Fog machines whirred, unleashing a cold mist into his path before the lights came back up and he started strutting out, swinging his bony little hips, jerking around so awkwardly that he looked like he had broken something – maybe a heel. 

Ciel started trying to pull off his shirt on the way there. He was wearing a little blue halter-top that tied in the front with an exaggerated knot, the black lace edge of a bra peeking over the sides. Sebastian couldn’t decide whether he should be angry at the disgusting display or amused. Amusement had a slight edge – especially since Ciel had no form of tits _to_ to hold up. Therefore, the addition of the bra was nothing short of ridiculous. 

Ciel’s cheeks were flushed and his little red mouth quivered as he pulled on the ends of his halter-top’s tie. The knot unraveled and he grabbed the front of the garment, sweeping it back. It got stuck halfway down his arms and he almost audibly groaned, pulling one arm out first before swinging the other one around and yanking the top off that way. He tried to salvage the move by swinging it above his head and throwing it into the crowd, but he was too far away – and the shirt only made it as far as the edge of the stage. 

Sebastian was almost embarrassed _for_ the boy. Even so, he felt a smile started to creep onto his face. It was almost like divine justice. 

Ciel’s legs wobbled as he stopped trying to perform, briefly, and stopped near the stripper pole, working on the clasp his bra. It hooked in the front, but that didn’t mean it was an easier to undo. He fiddled with it for one frustrating second before deciding _fuck it_ and abandoned the attempt, grabbing onto the pole instead. He wrapped his leg around it, his heel banging against the cold metal and making it shudder. Sebastian lifted a hand to cover his face, not sure if he could stand to watch this any longer. 

“This is painful,” Grell moaned, her eyes rolling. “Alan, save me.” 

“Sorry,” Alan said. “I just run the bar.” 

“That little bitch is going to run this business into the ground in no time.” 

“Should he even be working the stage? I heard he was pregnant. What if he falls?” Alan whipped a white cloth away from its resting place on his shoulder and started wiping down a glass. 

“I don’t think we’re lucky enough for him to fall.” Grell said. “Give me another shot.” 

)()()()(  
Up on stage, Ciel _knew_ that things were going badly. He knew he was expected to improve, especially if he wanted to keep his job, but nothing at all seemed to be going right. Not to mention his mind was still on the incident with Claude and that little blonde in his shower. Even thinking about it made him so mad… 

Ciel ground his teeth and made an attempt to throw his weight and swing around the pole. The most he did was chafe his thigh, a slight burn which made him hiss in pain and stop altogether. 

He glanced out over the crowd, trying to gauge exactly _how_ badly he was fucking up. His eyes felt drawn past those who were just gathered at the stage like open-mouthed fish waiting to be fed. He saw Grell at the bar, and that was embarrassing enough. She must have gone over there to gloat and exchange jives with that mousy bartender…

And then his eyes fell onto Sebastian. 

Ciel couldn’t breathe. 

He felt the color drain from his face and he started backing up, his brain automatically switching into panic mode. What was Sebastian doing here? What did he want? Did he _know_ that Ciel worked here? Had he come to see _this specific performance on purpose_?

Ciel’s mind was racing. All hope he had of focusing on his routine was gone. He felt anger flare up in his chest as he bent down, lifting his feet up and slipping off his heels, hurling both of them over the crowd – aiming them straight at Sebastian. 

Sebastian did not waiver and the heels didn’t even land close. Ciel turned and took off running, sprinting for the back of the stage. 

There were a few murmurs in the crowd – a few isolated laughs. Sebastian heard Grell muffle a guffaw behind him. 

“He’s not going to last another night here.” She said, sounding far too smug about that fact. “I hope you’re okay, darling.” She settled a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, moving her fingers back and forth to massage it. “I hope that mean little brat didn’t hurt you.” 

She was being sarcastic, of course. But Sebastian’s eyes followed Ciel off the stage, and a knowing smirk played at his lips. 

“Oh,” he said, “he knows that he can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so awesome. :'D I love the fact that you are reading and enjoying this story even if it is the trashiest of all trash fics.
> 
> I'm a super awkward person so if I haven't responded to your comment I apologize. 0//0 Rest assured I love you and I make inhuman squeeing sounds when I read them. :"D

**Author's Note:**

> That feeling when you realize it has been almost 200 days since you have updated your fanfics, but you feel like it's only been a month or two. 
> 
> Life is fucking crazy. But I swear I'll actually finish them. 
> 
> This one isn't even meant to be taken seriously. I'm so sorry.


End file.
